


first light / new moon

by meowcosm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Grieving, M/M, Post-Azure Moon, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowcosm/pseuds/meowcosm
Summary: The war is won, and peace has come to Fodlan.But the more things change, the more they stay the same. And Seteth has a strange feeling that he's been in this situation before.-or, Seteth finds out he's going to be a father again, and tries not to lose his mind, a task made already difficult enough by the beginning of a new school year at Garreg Mach academy.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Comments: 12
Kudos: 84





	1. all shining things

Seteth doesn't know how he knows, but he does. Knows there's something changed, altered, from its previous state. It is not a perversion, nor a disruption, and for that he maintains his thanks. 

But he is wandering. Each time he holds Byleth in his arms, feels the warmth of his skin- there is a light in the depths of a great body of water, drawing him in, and he is compelled towards it. He wants to call it home, but he never gets close enough.

Sometimes, he wonders if Byleth feels it too. Whatever it is, it seems intimately related to him. A strange energy, latched there. Perhaps it's connected to the strange condition he's been afflicted with recently- the vomiting, the lethargy, an even bigger appetite than usual for the man who could clear away a great many meals with his students back in the day. 

A light that craves. Seteth knows he's silly when he sees Flayn look lovingly into the deep body of the pool, and instinctively surveys the murky green-blue for the radiance of his dreams. But he can't look away.

-

Seteth ghosts his fingers over Byleth's skin. It's soft, a natural progression of events since they both withdrew from combat, but what strikes him is just how soft it is. Plump, gentle, sweet-smelling. A streak of green hair frames his abdomen, itself softened and made tender by the years passed after their victory. In a brief, indulgent moment, Seteth wonders if a child of theirs would carry such beauty within them, but he banishes such a thought seconds after. 

Their marital bed is of fine silk and cotton, its frame strong and ancient oak. Truthfully, Seteth did not appreciate the opulence in the fashion many would. But he had wanted the best for Byleth, who had proven his worth a thousand times over, to Seteth and the world. And in his daily life, it was hard to decry the usefulness of a wonderful night's sleep. Or the companionship of his dearly beloved, lying before him in slim sleepwear. 

"Oh, Seteth." His voice is still so sweet on Byleth's tongue. "I've wanted this all day." He leans forward to kiss Byleth, to taste him, and when he shuts his eyes he sees the light again. 

"You are infinitely handsome like this. Radiant, even." He will never tire of saying it; for it will never be untrue. 

"It means very much to hear that. To be truthful... I have had quite an unfortunate day." Something is weighing on him- Seteth can feel it. "Aside from my enduring sickness, I believe that..." He swallows, "my archbishop outfit has become a difficult fit." 

Seteth gazes down at Byleth's body. He doesn't look too different. Doesn't feel too different- 

except for the smooth protrusion of his stomach, subtle but no longer invisible on close inspection. 

"The waistband troubles me. Aside from that, it is of no issue."

"Do you believe you know why it has become difficult?"

"No." 

"I trust you. For the moment, return to your civilian clothing, and I will ensure some alterations. And..." He hesitated in suggesting anything, because Byleth was the self-reliant sort, but it was a gentle reminder. "You should return to the healer soon. Be cooperative, if only for me."

Byleth sighs, resigned, and Seteth sinks down to tease his neck with his sharp front teeth. His frown becomes a grin, and the light shines brighter in the back of Seteth’s eyes when he closes them. 

-

Fishing isn't the same without Byleth, but that doesn't mean it's bad. With Flayn by his side, it feels as if the time is slipping gently through Seteth's fingers, the two of them able to do nothing but wait for some sort of bite. Their voices are silent, and Seteth can tell something is going unspoken between them. 

He shuts his eyes, and imagines the glowing light beneath the surface until Flayn pipes up. 

"Why isn't Byleth fishing with us today?"

The absence is notable. Usually, if he's not there, he's been dragged by his hair through the mud by someone desperately seeking his attention, or he's unwell. He can't blame Flayn for being curious, and he doesn't really have a good answer outside of what he knows- which is little. 

"Byleth is seeing a healer. He will be with us soon, Flayn."

"Is everything alright?"

Seteth hums under his breath. "I believe so." More humming. "He is simply having something checked up on."

"I am glad to hear that he is okay." 

Seteth gets lost in the light again. It could be minutes, or an hour, before either of them says anything else.

"It's nice to spend time like this." Flayn ponders out loud. Seteth doesn't respond, not immediately.

Instead, he takes in the sounds of the large silver fish Flayn has caught slapping against the dock. The mutter of the distant marketplace, the meowing of an affectionate cat. How the absence that they feel has changed, away from Mother- away from the dead. 

Seteth wants, instinctively, to apologize. They have acknowledged it long before, that they wished to carry her memory forward, her love and her light. For them to find another, for Seteth to hold another in his heart and against his body, has already felt like a thousand treasons for him. But on the day that Seteth worked up the nerve to tell Flayn the truth of his disappearances at night, she had only held his weeping form and promised him that the world was best with his heart full. 

He plans to say something, even just a sole affirmative, but before he can another voice interjects. 

"I'm sorry I'm late." 

His voice is a balm on Seteth's mind, and even before he turns to face Byleth, he's smiling from cheek to cheek. 

-

The fishing goes much as intended- Byleth and Flayn fish to catch, while Seteth simply meditates on the world around the bobbing of his float, watches it ebb and flow throughout the day. In the evening, Flayn splits to observe the sunset, and Byleth grips Seteth's wrist gently. 

The light flickers, and Seteth can't help noticing how beautiful it seems. 

"We should meet in our room. I have something to discuss with you."

And so they walk, together, to their quarters on the third floor of the monastery. Neither of them say anything, but when they slip behind the door, Byleth sits gently on the bed and waits for Seteth to join him. His presence is comforting, and Byleth finds that it both loosens and tightens the knot in his throat. 

"I went to the healer today." Seteth knows this, and Byleth knows that he knows this, but it makes leading into it easier, even if just a little. Instead of commenting, Seteth puts his hand over Byleth's and rubs it comfortingly, gentle and sweet. "I'm...." 

Seteth looks over to him, and cups his cheek in his spare hands. 

"I'm with child, Seteth."

His eyes flicker down to where Byleth's other hand hovers over the tiny curve of his stomach, apparent in his simple robe, and feels such a deep depth of love coil within him that he almost sobs. 

"You... Oh, Byleth." It's growing out of him like flowers blooming in spring, the gravity of his warmth. Without words, he lifts his hand from Byleth's hand and onto his stomach, and leans forward to kiss him. When he pulls back, he feels the corners of his eyes become wet with tears. 

"Is it true?" Seteth whispers, not out of distrust but reverence, a need to hold the words between them again. Byleth smiles, nodding as gentle as he can muster. 

"It is. And these words... They make me infinitely happy to say them. So I will say them, over and over. I'm w-"

Seteth kisses him, almost on instinct. Byleth leans into it, safe and secure against his mouth. His hand, now lifted away from Byleth's stomach, runs through his downy green hair with great tenderness. 

"I'm with child, Seteth." It's only a whisper, but for the both of them it feels as if those words could resonate forever. "I almost can't believe it."

"Me neither. But I promise to extend myself as far as is possible for the both of you, forever."

-

When Seteth shuts his eyes in sleep, he’s closer to the beautiful light than ever before. 

  
  



	2. sweeping light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flayn and Seteth have a conversation.

Though the beginning of a new year at Garreg Mach complicates the issue of privacy significantly, Seteth considers himself lucky to know the place so profoundly that he's able to cloister himself away on the top floor whenever he needs space. Though the wind is fierce, accentuated by the high altitude of Garreg Mach, the view is beautiful and the landscape tranquil. But standing at the balcony and peering over the edge, Flayn at his side, he can’t help but feel a great anxiety at how his isolation has been disrupted. How Flayn stands there so still, arm lazing over the edge, gazing into the distance at the mountains still white-capped in the middle of Spring. Seteth reaches his hand out for hers, only to hesitate before making contact, speaking her name shakily instead. 

"Flayn." When he says her name, even in such an insecure fashion, she looks over to him and smiles. It soothes the lump in his throat, if only somewhat. "You must wonder why I've requested to meet you here."

"It's just nice to see you, father." How strange it feels to hear her call him that here- how beautiful that they have been afforded those small pleasures. He smiles back at Flayn, though he can feel it faltering slightly. 

"It is a pleasure to see you too. But it is not a regular occurrence for us to meet here." The cold and the wind pressing against their clothes and distorting their hair say more than enough in regards to why. "The fact of the matter is that I must have a frank conversation with you."

Flayn cocks her head gently, and speaks in a confused tone. "...Is it about this place?"

Seteth shakes his head, and turns towards the distance again. "Not as such. It is simply a private matter, and I believe this to be the most appropriate location to speak of secretive things." His eyes flicker back to Flayn, watching for her reaction. It seems to still be one of confusion. 

"It is a good venue, but you must stop being so cryptic!” She presses her dress to herself and emphasizes her shivering. “I am already beginning to feel the nip of cold, and you have not said a word-"

"Patience, dear Flayn. It is a... difficult subject, and I very much appreciate your patience."

Her eyes suddenly fill with fear, and Seteth is hit with a bolt of guilt about his hesitation. He grits his teeth- he cannot cause Flayn to panic unnecessarily, regardless of the difficulty he has enunciating the situation at hand. 

"But I promise you that it is nothing concerning." He realizes, even as he says that, that it's something of a lie- Seteth is himself very concerned for Byleth, even if he's elated at the pregnancy. But that’s to be expected, of course, because he’s the father, while Flayn is...

Well, she's Byleth's family too.    
Even if she's never called herself Byleth's stepdaughter out loud. 

"Then please, tell me."

"Flayn." Seteth coughs to clear his throat, feeling his heartbeat become faster as he tries to go over it in his mind, to avoid choking on his words unnecessarily. "Byleth is expecting a child." 

Silence hangs over them. Seteth closes his eyes, watches the light from a distance, afraid of what he might see in Flayn's expression. But then there's something tugging on his arm, gently pulling it away from its crossed position. 

"Father. You mean to tell me that I will become an elder sibling?"

Though Seteth keeps his eyes closed, the sentiment elates him- that Flayn would see herself as a sibling to this incipient child. 

"...Yes, if you choose to perceive yourself as such, that would be the case."

"I see. Well, I will do my best to provide a good example for them! And perhaps I will be able to take care of them myself at some point, should you need some relief."

Seteth breathes in again. He feels… profoundly  _ strange _ , as if he’s wading into deep, warm water. "This does not... distress you...? At all?"

Flayn is audibly smiling, now, in contrast to her previous confusion. "Should it?"

"I assumed it would." Seteth sighs. "Though perhaps that was an underestimation of you on my behalf." He opens his eyes to face Flayn, and feels himself blushing as she nods at his statement. 

"I am happy for you, father. And, if I am truthful…” She presses her finger to her chin coyly, “I have been hopeful of this scenario, though I did not think it would come to pass."

Seteth exhales a breath of relief, forming a cloud against the cold air. "That is encouraging to hear. I simply supposed that you would be hesitant to accept the idea of another child in my life."

Flayn giggles. "With respect, father, I look forward to you having less time to occupy with bothering me for my private life." Seteth supposes he should retort that, but it's something he's likely earned. Instead, he just hums under his breath. 

"You are free to look at it that way. I suppose my hesitation is... You do not resent me for not only taking another lover, but fathering a child with them too?"

Flayn shakes her head, resolute. "Not at all. It is better to create life than destroy it, as was our role during the war."

"But your mother-" 

“Is not with us.” Flayn shakes her head. “We mourn her deeply... But I believe she would be happy for you. She only ever wanted our happiness, father." 

And that, Seteth knows to be true.

"...You are correct. I sometimes wonder when you became wiser than me, young Flayn."

"Perhaps living in a school has its benefits, no?"

Seteth chuckles at that, and draws Flayn into a hug.

"You'll always be precious to me, regardless of what the future brings."

"Of course, father. I know that very well." And for that, Seteth is glad. Flayn clutches at his sleeve, tugging at it again. "When will the baby be born?"

"Perhaps sixth months from now, maybe later." He and Byleth weren’t sure about the time of conception, but had estimated it at somewhere near the end of winter. 

"I will look forward to it."

  
Seteth smiles, and thinks to himself:  _ and I will too, sweet Flayn _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! i really do appreciate comments + kudos and will try my best to respond to any you leave.  
> as always, my twitter is @meowcosm.   
> until next time!


	3. beneath the silver solace, in awe of you alone

Aside from the most significant of religious festivities, which were headquartered in the cathedral, Garreg Mach hosted a diverse selection of events throughout its yearly calendar. Such events, principal amongst them the White Heron Ball, were often Seteth’s area of concern. As long as there was nothing out of the ordinary occurring (blissfully, it had been that way for a while now after the war) and his other duties as the right-hand to the archbishop and administrator of the Academy had been filled, it would inevitably fall upon him to corral at least some small aspect of ceremony into order. And though Seteth would readily admit that he never found the profound extroversion of such events particularly enjoyable, he had a fondness for the routine which had built up over the years. With Garreg Mach reconstructed, not solely as a war base but as an institution, these tasks beckoned him towards themselves like a warm and comforting bath.

It was for that reason, though not that reason alone, that Seteth looked at the yearly inauguration of the academic term with pride. Though the organization of the ceremony always seemed to come so rapidly following the latest graduation, Seteth appreciated the ways in which it laid out the prospect for the year ahead in front of him. With various knights and teachers taking the stage, introducing themselves to the new student populace, he could scan the crowd and observe the way faces changed and shifted regarding what was said. The students who looked hesitant at the promise of academic challenge- layabouts, or perhaps in need of additional encouragement. Those who seemed much more engaged with the others sitting around them, this flush of new faces- social butterflies. Students who seemed only transfixed by the display when a female presenter came on the stage- Seteth grimaced internally at the thought of having to deal with someone akin to the notorious Sylvain Gautier. He rarely had to listen to the presenters themselves, because most of the faculty had cleared their speeches with him before they even approached the makeshift podium in the reception hall. Even if they hadn’t, he could always make a solid guess about what would be said. Hanneman would mention crests, barely reining in his research instincts, Alois would make some sort of horrendous pun resulting in stifled giggles across the packed hall, and Manuela would contractually remind everyone to come to the infirmary if they felt unwell. The latter speech always precluded the initial cold season provoked by people from so many places coming together at once- the earlier it could be nipped in the bud, the better. He would also have to give a speech, though considering the limited scope of his interaction with the students it was always much more concise than the others, short enough that he could recite it rote each year. He had needed to rehearse it again for the first year of the new academy, however, and found that it made him feel normal like nothing else could.

This year was different. Seteth knew it would be, mostly within the context of the situation that he and Byleth were now in. Though the archbishop said little to nothing during the inauguration ceremony, was instead expected to stand in the corner and provoke a severe yet loving atmosphere through their constant observation, Seteth found that they- Byleth- were his constant focal point for the entire hour and a half that the inauguration went on for. Between intermittant glances at the audience to make sure none of the students had already been provoked to petty squabbling, his eyes flitted over Byleth almost constantly, observing his presence, fixated. He’d initially chalked it up to the sort of fretting observation which was a feature of his personality regardless of situation, then to making sure that Byleth was entirely comfortable (for it was only his second year of the ceremony), eventually settling on trying to deduce whether the pregnancy was visible yet. It was a cogent issue, one that would have to be dealt with at some point, that the Archbishop being with child could not be concealed from the rest of the monastery for long. And students, Seteth knew, had a particular way of intruding on what was supposed to be unknown. But an hour into the ceremony, Seteth had come to no conclusion, and had not heard a word of what any of the newer members of faculty had said to the audience. Nor had he heard the call of his name emanating from in front of him in a sensible, older tone.

“Seteth?”

A great mass of eyes landed on him, stood as he was in the opposite corner from Byleth, observing him intently. A small chuckle exited Hanneman’s mouth as he reiterated what had been said previously.

“Ah, Seteth.” He coughed. “You’re the one who’s speaking now.”

But there was nothing, no sign of Seteth coming round to him. An awkward silence swept through the room, a silence of both perplexed students and faculty giving their best efforts not to laugh at the obvious source of Seteth’s distraction. After a few seconds of pained absence of speech, Hanneman sighed and turned around to where Seteth stood, withdrew back onto his favourite wooden chair (which had been hand-carved, and which he viewed so fondly that he had brought it down to the reception hall from his own room) and tapped Seteth lightly on the shoulder. At the contact, Seteth jolted, and looked towards Hanneman accusatorily before he realized the silence which was hanging over the room. Flustered, he whispered to Hanneman.

“…Have I missed my turn to speak…?”

The professor only smiled. “Not at all. I believe that the students are waiting very patiently for your introduction, in fact.”

“O-of course.” Without any decorum, nervously smoothing his outfit as he approached the podium, Seteth coughed loudly to attract renewed attention. Feeling infinitely lucky that his distraction had not caused him to forget his script, Seteth started to recite his own personal mantra.

“Welcome to the new Garreg Mach academic year. My name is Seteth.” So far, so good. “I serve as the right-hand man to the archbishop, who you will see over there-“ his eyeline moved to where Byleth stood, proud and silent, “and I am the chief administrator in terms of all academic and logistical matters. I am responsible for dealing with all incidents of severe misconduct amongst both students and staff. As such, it is fortunate if I do not see too much of any of you students this year. My expectations for your performance are stringent, but I fully expect you all to be capable of upholding them and honouring the long traditions which have strengthened Garreg Mach over the years. May the Goddess bless the following academic term.”

That was all he needed to say- all he did say- before he withdrew back into the clustered crowd of authority figures cloistered on the stage. Still, he could not help feeling particularly embarrassed by his speech, framed as it was by his complete distraction beforehand, and as Catherine took the stage he felt compelled to shrink back into his garments and shuffle away. He felt quite thankful, at least, that he had agreed to letting her show off Thunderbrand in front of the students, despite initially being entirely opposed on the grounds that it was a distraction. He hadn’t expected to need a distraction, of course. But with Catherine brandishing the Relic in front of everyone with the same effortless confidence that she carried out everything with, Seteth hoped that his humiliation could be quickly forgotten.

\--

Half an hour later, with the ceremonials concluded and the student populace vacating the building as a flock, Seteth stepped down from the stage entirely. Twiddling his fingers, having spent the latter part of the event staring at his own feet as an alternative to his fixation on Byleth, he glanced around the hall. Once the students had departed entirely, all of the faculty would pick up their goods and go, giving the custodial staff space to clean up the debris of the event. He had insisted himself that this was to be the case, that the faculty were not to leave before the students. Had made a specific point that it conveyed proper authority on moldable young minds. Just another thing to add to the list of decisions he regretted, Seteth supposed. Knowing this, knowing that he only had to remain put until all of the students were gone- it filled his heart with an expedient beat. As soon as he was alone with the others, they would no doubt inquire as to his sudden distraction regarding Byleth. They all knew of the relationship, of course, so it wasn’t a question of them picking up on that (teasing, though, was possible, and an entirely different matter). But the child remained a secret shared between only the two of them and Flayn, and it was frankly an unfortunate time in the most optimistic of senses to reveal such information. So as the last few students trickled out of the reception hall, Seteth stood from his chair and took to his feet. He hated to not return it to its rightful place, but if Manuela made some sort of comment towards him about the situation he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d be able to keep his composure, so a rapid retreat was necessary. But looking behind him for the last time to spot where Byleth was, it struck Seteth that he was no longer amongst the crowd. Turning around to try and spot him somewhere else in the room, a sudden flash of pale green hair in front of his eyes shocked Seteth out of his focused daze.

“Seteth,” Byleth begun “I see you’re making preparations to leave.” At the sudden enunciation, Seteth spluttered, and wondered how he’d ever doubted Byleth’s teaching ability when simple statements of truth could come out so easily as armour-piercing observations.

“There are some things I need to attend to elsewhere.” This was his stock excuse, and the moment the words left his mouth Seteth felt remarkably silly about using them. Byleth was more intimately acquainted with his workload than anyone else- particularly when it came to the nights they had free to bask in the other’s presence. He would not get away with a harried appearance in front of him.

“I hope that I’m on that list of things.” Byleth whispered, causing Seteth to blush up to his ears. “We have some time scheduled later.”

“Of course, my love.” Byleth had a way with him, could make him fluster so easily ever since he’d opened his heart. “To be entirely truthful, I was planning mostly to depart for our quarters as soon as it was possible. I suppose my business was mostly an excuse for anyone else.”

“Would you like me to walk us both there?” inquired the archbishop, slipping his hand away from its place behind his back and into the air which separated him and Seteth. “We may have a chance to talk on the way.”

And really, how could Seteth refuse? This was how they had fallen in love- the quiet moments which interspersed moments of great violence, the light of the moon shining on them both. Resisting the urge to take another look around, to look for those who might intrude on their private moment, Seteth took Byleth’s hand in his and the two made for the exit, the cool air of a mountainous spring night hitting their small patches of exposed skin with a tiny bite. To counteract the chill, Seteth withdrew one of his hands deeper into the comfort of his sleeve, and let the other absorb Byleth’s warmth as he held him close. Standing together on the field, it seemed like the infinite light of the stars was all reflected in Byleth’s eyes. Seteth could not stand to say nothing.

“My love,” he began, “I cannot help but tell you how entranced I feel to see you like this. You are simply… wonderful. The sort of wonder which I cannot take my eyes off of.”

“Is that why you were staring at me during the introduction?” Byleth remarked, hand still curled around Seteth’s writing-worn fingers. Seteth could only flush again.

“…I see you noticed that.”

“I believe everyone did.” There was a moment of silence before Byleth spoke again. “But with all said, I do feel rather touched by the watchfulness of your eyes.”

“I simply wish to ensure your happiness, as well as your good standing.”

Byleth smiled ever so slightly, and as Seteth caught his expression illuminated by the light of the moon, he returned it himself. He had always known Byleth to be the taciturn sort, but also the type to be remarkably sincere with his emotions. “You have a peculiar way of saying that you love me.”

“I love you, Byleth. You are… everything.” Seteth’s eyes flitted open, then shut, bracing against the fullness of the moon. Withdrawing his hand from his sleeve, he brought it close to Byleth’s lower abdomen, hovering with gentleness and hesitancy. A quick look around confirmed the absence of any unwanted presence, and Seteth turned back to face Byleth.

“Would it be acceptable for me to touch your-“

“There is no need for permission.”

As authoritative as always, thought Seteth as he moved his hand closer. Eventually, it came to rest on the ever-so-slight curve of Byleth’s stomach, and Seteth let out a sigh.

“Truthfully, I could not stop thinking of you and the child. Perhaps it felt more evident then that we would be facing the prospect of going public with the news. In front of all of those people.” Seteth’s thumb moved back and forth, an instinctual comforting motion, unsure if he was making it for the benefit of the baby or himself.

“That’s true.” Byleth stated. “I suppose I do not feel too apprehensive.”

“We may feel quite different on that front, then.” Seteth knew Byleth would understand that. He was good at that- understanding. Particularly as the one who had rescued Flayn from peril, Byleth knew well enough about the threats which could present, had presented, themselves to an incipient family of such significance. “But if you are yourself assured of these things, then I shall not take it upon myself to think too deeply on the subject.”

“No harm shall befall us. And our child- I am impatient for them. To feel them move, to hold them. But I am happy for us to remain so tender like this, under the moonlight.” A dreamy, satisfied sigh fell from Byleth’s lips as he murmured the last part against the chill of the still air, prompting Seteth to kiss him quite gently yet decisively upon where his words originated.

“We will have courage,” he whispered. “Courage, my love. I believe in you.”

-

Only when the two lovers departed from hearing distance was Hanneman able to rustle himself free of the bush branches entangling the lower part of his coat. Brushing off the debris which attached itself and readjusting his monocle, he gazed at the moon overhead and brought his mind back together.

 _If my observations on the conversation are correct_ , Hanneman thought to himself, _then Byleth is… with child. And Seteth is the sire._ Bubbles of happiness, tinged with well-warranted fear, rose in his stomach. _But it is to remain a secret for now_.

The image of his sister fluttered through his mind, and he sighed. Even if he was not supposed to be privy to this information- he had simply been in the right place at the wrong time- he felt compelled to do something, anything, to support the two. They had done much for him, after all. _But how to go about it without arousing any suspicion?_

He would have to speak with Manuela, entirely without revealing any of his intentions. The thought of that alone prompted another sigh. Such things were not easy. And yet, regardless- he felt rather excited at the prospect.

_A child. What a way to make me feel old, hm?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh? you're in love? you're sappy and in love? 
> 
> ft. gratuitous hanneman content

**Author's Note:**

> thank you very much for reading! this is intended to be multi-chapter, and i'll post updates on my twitter. you can follow me there at @meowcosm, or at @scribemallow on tumblr.
> 
> i love to read comments, so if you have anything to say please leave it for me!


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